X's and O's (Will Kilpatrick, DVM Mystery Series Book 1) by A. Carlock Maxwell DVM

Author:A. Carlock Maxwell DVM [Maxwell DVM, A. Carlock]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery
Publisher: A. Carlock Maxwell, DVM
Published: 2015-04-30T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 23

They stepped into intense sunshine enhanced by its reflection off the glistening hail. After exchanging stricken glances, their eyes parted as though embarrassed by the carnage.

Trees stood half-naked, shamed limbs stripped of foliage. Layers of shredded leaves coated the barn's side. More covered the ground like a huge tossed salad being held on ice.

The chicken coop resembled an unlit bonfire. Carcasses of laying hens littered the ground. Some crippled ones drug themselves along. They would have to be killed. Liza hoped that the range stock nearing slaughter size had found shelter, but that was expecting a lot from a chicken. In the midst of the debris, the pungent aroma of crushed mint leaves perfumed the air.

A flash of slinking yellow caught her attention. She dropped to her knees as Blue lunged into her arms. Except for a pump knot on his head, he appeared to be unharmed.

Liza's eyes jerked here and there, awestruck at the thoroughness of the devastation. Corn, beans, squash, cucumbers, okra, tomatoes - all leveled. Despair squeezed her frail voice. "This is worse than bad."

Will touched her shoulder but moved his hand away when her skin twitched like a spooky horse's.

Spontaneous combustion seemed inevitable. Only the chilled air prevented it while his arm was around her in the barn. Though the farm was suffering devastation, his embrace, if that's what it was, provided security during the storm.

PJ was right. Men like him should be locked up.

And if not him, her.

Now she had two disasters to sort through.

After yesterday's debacle, she doubted it mattered. Though it fell on her to explain why she stood him up after church, he hadn't bothered to ask why she backed out. What did that say? Being with her wasn't important? Maybe he was more a hot cross buns than biscuits guy. God, give me the opportunity to make amends.

"Is it too late to replant?"

She paused. He might as well have asked her what the square root of the moon was. "I'm not sure."

"Is there anyone I can call to come help you?"

"No. Guess I'd better check the house."

Large areas of shingles had been ripped from the roof, exposing black tar paper and bare boards. The windows on the north side stared blindly, sockets without eyes.

Will scraped the porch free of ice and glass with his boots. Liza swung the ruined screen door open. Puddles of water glittered in the kitchen where hail, after smashing through the windows, decayed. Splinters of glass crunched underfoot. He noticed the shotgun propped against the wall and looked at her. How alluring was that?

She slumped against the sink. If she had felt better, she would have vomited.

Will flipped the wall switch several times. "No electric. Where's the circuit breaker?"

"In there." She waved absently at the walk-in pantry in the corner. He could take over until she caught her breath and refocused. Then she would resume control. And being independent. And being analytical.

He opened the door. Enough light shone in to reveal ceiling shelves stacked six deep with canned goods – vegetables, fruits, juices, jellies.

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